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MARY DONNELLY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: O lovely mary donnelly, it's you I love the best
Last Line: May go!
Alternate Author Name(s): Pollex, D.; Walker, Patricius
Variant Title(s): Lovely Mary Donnelly
Subject(s): Admiration


O LOVELY Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best!
If fifty girls were round you, I'd hardly see the
rest.
Be what it may the time of day, the place be where
it will,
Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before
me still.
Her eyes like mountain water that's flowing on a
rock,
How clear they are! how dark they are! and they
give me many a shock.
Red rowans warm in sunshine, and wetted with
a shower,
Could ne'er express the charming lip that has me
in its power.
Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows
lifted up,
Her chin is very neat and pert, and smooth like a
china cup,
Her hair's the brag of Ireland, so weighty and so
fine, --
It's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered in a
twine.
The dance o' last Whit-Monday night exceeded all
before;
No pretty girl for miles about was missing from
the floor;
But Mary kept the belt of love, and O, but she
was gay!
She danced a jig, she sung a song, that took my
heart away.
When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so
complete
The music nearly killed itself to listen to her
feet;
The fiddler moaned his blindness, he heard her so
much praised,
But blessed himself he wasn't deaf when once her
voice she raised.
And evermore I'm whistling or lilting what you
sung,
Your smile is always in my heart, your name be-
side my tongue;
But you've as many sweethearts as you'd count
on both your hands,
And for myself there's not a thumb or little finger
stands.
O, you're the flower o' womankind in country or
in town;
The higher I exalt you, the lower I'm cast down.
If some great lord should come this way, and see
your beauty bright,
And you to be his lady, I'd own it was but right.
O, might we live together in a lofty palace hall,
Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curtains fall!
O, might we live together in a cottage mean and
small;
With sods of grass the only roof, and mud the
only wall!
O lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty's my dis-
tress;
It's far too beauteous to be mine, but I'll never
wish it less.
The proudest place would fit your face, and I am
poor and low;
But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you
may go!




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